


For Her Comfort

by oREDACTEDo



Series: Operation SMUT [2]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, I see Timur being a subtle hopeless romantic, Long-Distance Relationship, Romance, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oREDACTEDo/pseuds/oREDACTEDo
Summary: Terrible injuries could break a person's body.  The permanent scars could break a person's sense of worth.  Timur would go out of his way for her in a heartbeat, regardless of rules and regulations, to mend her wounds.  And she couldn't feel any more loved when she was in his presence.





	For Her Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Old drabble that I added to. Siege has always been one of my favorite games.

“Myshka.”  His hands graced her face so delicately.  Calloused fingers with the gentleness of an artist, and eyes examining her down to the core.  Before, when she first met him, she was a counterintelligence specialist for the National Security Agency.  Six found her background in the Special Collection Service as a very necessary component for Team Rainbow.  And with her marine training she was well known as the unit’s specialized, eavesdropping hacker. 

But a nasty incident left her with a bad scar, and even worse side effects.  She could not smell or taste anything anymore, and something that seemed so simple had a surprisingly large toll on her psyche.  It was possible for her to be on the field, but barely.  Because of times like this. 

With her body heating up and heart racing, panic was a simple moment away.  “Breath, myshka.” 

“I am.”

“ _Net_ , slower.  More gentle.” 

His voice was like a thick fluid, struggling to entrance her with a rugged accent.  He breathed deeply, and she fought to match his painfully slow pace.  But it was helping, she was coming back.  “Da, just like that.”

“Someone will see us.”

“There is no one watching, myshka.  We are safe.  In your home.”

Anxiety turned into depression, and then to dread.  “Why is this happening again?” her voice cracked like all was lost.  Like she just had everything taken away from her.  But he hushes her, and before she knew it he was holding her.  His body towered hers, toned muscle emanating a burning heat that could barely match his passion.  He comforted her in ways that no benzodiazepine could ever.  But she still heard the crack of her skull when it hit the pavement—she remembered the heat wave that formed from that single charge of nitroglycerin.  It was a few feet from her face, but close enough to deal the damage.  She was hospitalized for weeks, months.  Now she was a traumatic mess, and an ally that found ways to help her also found ways to be her other half. 

The hardened sniper used to intimidate her.  It isn’t often she had met them regularly.  But as the threats arrived, and as the program took its course, they were out on the field together more than they were home.  Timur was fully cladded in gear when she first met him, a stone-cold gaze concealing a rather enchanting heart beneath.  His fellow Spetsnaz were no more approachable—quiet, professional, and very introverted.  Terrorist specialists, assault units, military personal—all units of all nations were there for a deeper purpose than making friends.  These men were from a completely different country all together.  It was by chance that she knew Jack previously, and that was simply because he suggested her.  Pulse and she used to work with one another, both specializing in Intelligence.  But she was bright, and she was very remarkable.  It wasn’t unlikely that they would be sent about to counter White Mask Terrorism. 

And when they proved a new model of bomb technology she went right in with them to defuse them manually.  It wasn’t until after when they made introductions.  At the time she only knew him as Glaz, and he only knew her as Hack.  But the more he interacted with her the more he found her charming.  She was respectable in her standings, but he enjoyed the details.  And her details were ones he didn’t quite shy away from naturally.  Soon he found her attractive; soon her found her American accent adorable. 

So, when he heard that a certain Marine operator might possibly be relieved of duty, all the while performing his duties in his country, he had to remain diligent regardless of his worries.  And when he heard from Ash that she found little to no interest in eating, it was Timur who helped her change her perspective on life almost completely.  They communicated with letters, and he would draw for her in them.  He would splash them with colors of various mediums.  He would remind her of other things in life to enjoy.  And it was a pathetic thing, his comrades would think, that this Russian military operative was drawing pictures for an American woman thousands of miles away to make her feel better about her situation. 

He supposed love made him do strange things.

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I don’t want you to,” her face was pressed against his chest, it was almost inaudible.  But he smiled regardless.  “I know.”

She hums, “It’s for the best.  Any longer and it would seem suspicious.  It’s safer this way.”

His muscular arms had pulled her into his body, his embrace warm and unbreakable.  The heat of his body was comforting, but as she takes in a deep breath she felt distressed again.  “I miss your scent, Timur.” 

Earning a hum from him, she feels his lips press against the back of her neck.  “You have my touch.”

“That is very true.  I’ll miss it when you’re gone.  Unless there is another mission that we’re both called for.  Then we’ll be forced into formalities again.  I can’t complain—we could at least admire one another from afar.” 

A calloused finger gently pulls her face towards his, and he ghosts his lips along the shell of her ear before planting a soft kiss on the corners of her lips.  “I would not image leaving you without spoiling you, myshka.”

Raising a brow, she rolls to her back, the weight of him shifting the bed as he now hovers above her.  There was a look in his eyes, burning with a passion that made her stomach tickle.  She smiles, “Do you want to paint me again, Mr. Glazkov?”  His fingers stem through her messy locks, grazing her scalp lightly.  A purr rolls from her lips, and he inches down to kiss her, fervently and with much delight. 

“As tempting as it is to draw your naked body again, I have something much better in mind.”

She is lost in the pools of his blue eyes; the imperfection, an old scar in his sclera, always draws her attention.  “Oh?  Will I be the only one naked?” she asks with a light laugh, seeing the suggestive pull of his lips, the deep slur of his delicious Russian accent as he bellows a chuckle.  

He grins, “ ** _Net_**.”


End file.
